• 6th December
    2011
  • 06
One sprained knee, 4 dead toenails & a ridiculously awful finishing time later, I am still reeling from the disappointment that was the SG Marathon. I was hoping to write a victorious update not for the sake of vanity, but for the mere luxury of being able to look myself in the mirror and knowing for an absolute fact that accomplishing it the first time wasn’t a fluke or some wondrous stroke of luck because seriously, I am no athlete. To me, that 1st marathon was the culmination of months of training and sacrifice, proof that anything is possible as long as I put my heart/mind/soul into it. My 2nd marathon theoretically was supposed to be better. I ran the first marathon in support of friends and family, but I wanted this second one to be for me. I knew what I was up against, or so I thought. I realize it’s so easy to blame it on external factors- the humidity, the heat, the lack of sleep, my superstitious pre-race ritual that i skipped this time around, but it just boils down to one pure and simple fact: I choked. My right knee gave way at the 34th km after running through kilometers of crazy cramping on my right thigh, and as I sat there on the floor sobbing as the medic bandaged up the sprain, he told me that he didn’t think i should continue, but that meant that i wouldn’t be considered an “official finisher” of the run. I didn’t quit. But I didn’t run either- I jogged/walked/trudged the rest of the way to the finish line. I know that there’s some degree of honor that comes from not having given up but I can’t seem to shake the crushing sense of failure I feel at not having conquered the run on my own terms. Or worse, that overwhelming feeling of discouragement at not wanting to run again because I don’t want to go through that misery and relive that last 8km again.  That picture above was taken just yesterday, a few meters away from the finish line, pain visibly etched on my face. I pushed myself to run through it and finish “strong.” If only my emotional self could be just as strong. 

One sprained knee, 4 dead toenails & a ridiculously awful finishing time later, I am still reeling from the disappointment that was the SG Marathon.

I was hoping to write a victorious update not for the sake of vanity, but for the mere luxury of being able to look myself in the mirror and knowing for an absolute fact that accomplishing it the first time wasn’t a fluke or some wondrous stroke of luck because seriously, I am no athlete. To me, that 1st marathon was the culmination of months of training and sacrifice, proof that anything is possible as long as I put my heart/mind/soul into it. My 2nd marathon theoretically was supposed to be better. I ran the first marathon in support of friends and family, but I wanted this second one to be for me. I knew what I was up against, or so I thought. I realize it’s so easy to blame it on external factors- the humidity, the heat, the lack of sleep, my superstitious pre-race ritual that i skipped this time around, but it just boils down to one pure and simple fact: I choked.

My right knee gave way at the 34th km after running through kilometers of crazy cramping on my right thigh, and as I sat there on the floor sobbing as the medic bandaged up the sprain, he told me that he didn’t think i should continue, but that meant that i wouldn’t be considered an “official finisher” of the run. I didn’t quit. But I didn’t run either- I jogged/walked/trudged the rest of the way to the finish line. I know that there’s some degree of honor that comes from not having given up but I can’t seem to shake the crushing sense of failure I feel at not having conquered the run on my own terms. Or worse, that overwhelming feeling of discouragement at not wanting to run again because I don’t want to go through that misery and relive that last 8km again. 

That picture above was taken just yesterday, a few meters away from the finish line, pain visibly etched on my face. I pushed myself to run through it and finish “strong.” If only my emotional self could be just as strong. 

  • 21st October
    2011
  • 21
Of course it was painful, and there were times when, emotionally, I just wanted to chuck it all. But pain seems to be a precondition for this kind of sport. If pain weren’t involved, who in the world would ever go to the trouble of taking part in sports like the triathlon or the marathon, which demand such an investment of time and energy? It’s precisely because of the pain, precisely because we want to overcome that pain, that we can get the feeling, through this process, of really being alive- or at least a partial sense of it.
Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running
  • 7th October
    2011
  • 07
[photo: nuvali road; taken on 9/3/2011] i took the photo above during a particularly grueling training run. i needed to hit 30km that day and this was the point in the run that i was really exhausted yet still somehow happy and energetic. i took this picture at the time because i wanted to remind myself of how much work i was going through to get me to that finish line, and how despite the pain and fatigue, there was still something to look forward to along the way. i know now that it isn’t just about running towards the finish line, but taking in the entire experience and trying to enjoy the ride despite the pain/heat/exhaustion. i still look back at the entire experience with a sense of wonder because i can still remember how my very first run felt. it wasn’t even for a race, it was for the simple reason that i just needed some form of exercise because i was getting, well, a little too couch potatoey for my own good. i stepped on the treadmill thinking i could just wing it. how bad could it be? hamsters do it all the time. but it turns out in this regard hamsters > humans. i’m going to be honest and admit that i couldn’t even last 2 minutes on the treadmill. i was gasping for air, my lungs were burning, and by the 1:30 mark i knew i had to start turning down the dial. ugh, and good grief, i really hated running back then. gym time filled me with dread. but, i kept at it. my goal back then was to last 5 minutes without stopping. then slowly that goal moved up to 10minutes. then to 2km. then my first 5km race. and now here i am years later. one marathon done and training for another. the journey’s never over. you just keep aiming higher and keep on going. those sports commercials were really onto something- there really is no finish line.

[photo: nuvali road; taken on 9/3/2011]

i took the photo above during a particularly grueling training run. i needed to hit 30km that day and this was the point in the run that i was really exhausted yet still somehow happy and energetic. i took this picture at the time because i wanted to remind myself of how much work i was going through to get me to that finish line, and how despite the pain and fatigue, there was still something to look forward to along the way. i know now that it isn’t just about running towards the finish line, but taking in the entire experience and trying to enjoy the ride despite the pain/heat/exhaustion.

i still look back at the entire experience with a sense of wonder because i can still remember how my very first run felt. it wasn’t even for a race, it was for the simple reason that i just needed some form of exercise because i was getting, well, a little too couch potatoey for my own good. i stepped on the treadmill thinking i could just wing it. how bad could it be? hamsters do it all the time. but it turns out in this regard hamsters > humans.

i’m going to be honest and admit that i couldn’t even last 2 minutes on the treadmill. i was gasping for air, my lungs were burning, and by the 1:30 mark i knew i had to start turning down the dial. ugh, and good grief, i really hated running back then. gym time filled me with dread. but, i kept at it. my goal back then was to last 5 minutes without stopping. then slowly that goal moved up to 10minutes. then to 2km. then my first 5km race.

and now here i am years later. one marathon done and training for another. the journey’s never over. you just keep aiming higher and keep on going.

those sports commercials were really onto something- there really is no finish line.

  • 28th September
    2011
  • 28
Runner’s High I haven’t had a chance to post my marathon debrief entry, partly because I’m still trying to process the entire experience and partly because everything I’ve typed up so far doesn’t even come close to describing the run accurately. The moment I crossed that finish line, I dissolved into these heartwrenching sobs that came from absolutely nowhere. It was so embarrassingly dramatic; I cringe when I think back to how that must’ve looked to the people around me. And yet, I have to admit that it was the most cathartic feeling in the world. It was a mixture of joy and pain and relief and exhaustion. The culmination of hours of struggle under excruciating heat and relentless sunshine. It was everything they said it would be and yet nothing I could have ever anticipated. Mere hours after the run I swore that I’d never put myself through that madness again. Every inch of my body was in agony. From the tips of my toes, to the soles of my feet, to the muscles on my ankles, calves, thighs and back (upper and lower). Even my skin was chafed by clothes I thought were already broken in. I was physically blistered and emotionally bruised. But somehow, I emerged stronger. Two days later, I feel like I’m ready again- ready to put myself through that insanity and reenter the world of training runs and eating plans. Ready to work towards further self-improvement. Ready to lace up those shoes and hit the pavement again. It’s a side of me I’ve never seen before, one that I didn’t even know existed within me. Maybe it’s unleashed some masochistic side of me, but I’m ready for more pain, and more well, glory. The taste of accomplishment, of achieving something I’ve worked so hard to attain, is sweet and quite frankly, addicting. I try not to throw the word around too much, but “lifechanging” is one of the words that would aptly describe what I just went through.

Runner’s High

I haven’t had a chance to post my marathon debrief entry, partly because I’m still trying to process the entire experience and partly because everything I’ve typed up so far doesn’t even come close to describing the run accurately.

The moment I crossed that finish line, I dissolved into these heartwrenching sobs that came from absolutely nowhere. It was so embarrassingly dramatic; I cringe when I think back to how that must’ve looked to the people around me. And yet, I have to admit that it was the most cathartic feeling in the world. It was a mixture of joy and pain and relief and exhaustion. The culmination of hours of struggle under excruciating heat and relentless sunshine. It was everything they said it would be and yet nothing I could have ever anticipated.

Mere hours after the run I swore that I’d never put myself through that madness again. Every inch of my body was in agony. From the tips of my toes, to the soles of my feet, to the muscles on my ankles, calves, thighs and back (upper and lower). Even my skin was chafed by clothes I thought were already broken in. I was physically blistered and emotionally bruised.

But somehow, I emerged stronger.

Two days later, I feel like I’m ready again- ready to put myself through that insanity and reenter the world of training runs and eating plans. Ready to work towards further self-improvement. Ready to lace up those shoes and hit the pavement again.

It’s a side of me I’ve never seen before, one that I didn’t even know existed within me. Maybe it’s unleashed some masochistic side of me, but I’m ready for more pain, and more well, glory. The taste of accomplishment, of achieving something I’ve worked so hard to attain, is sweet and quite frankly, addicting.

I try not to throw the word around too much, but “lifechanging” is one of the words that would aptly describe what I just went through.

  • 27th September
    2011
  • 27
  • 25th September
    2011
  • 25
Project 26 at 26. 26 miles at 26 years. A few weeks shy of my 27th birthday. The full marathon. Done! Finito! I can’t believe it. I am happy and grateful and elated and above all, exhausted. What a crazy experience.

Project 26 at 26. 26 miles at 26 years. A few weeks shy of my 27th birthday. The full marathon. Done! Finito! I can’t believe it. I am happy and grateful and elated and above all, exhausted. What a crazy experience.

  • 10th September
    2011
  • 10